About me

Nora K

Having been bitten by the travel bug many moons ago, I’ve since devoted the majority of my leisure time dreaming of my next vacation....be it a stay cay spent discovering my home town, visiting my sister and her family in la belle province or jetting off to any (well, ok....if you must know, it would preferrably be Paris) European location. Even dreaming of setting a pink sneaker footprint on new territory gets my heart racing and my adrenaline pumping. I’m always ready to travel. So what if I have a slight claustrophobic issue with elevators, subways and airplanes? A glass of vino or two will quite easily solve that issue. Did I tell you that I enjoy the occasional vino tinto? More on that later....

I’ve had interesting globe traipsing experiences, travelling with my niece, my friends and my folk dance group and have some entertaining stories to share with you. So, if you can’t get away just yet, no worries, just read, enjoy and come travel with me....

Having rescued
the kid from spending the remainder of her life ambling about the corridors of
Le Petit Trianon, lost amongst the 18thcentury ghosts of
Marie-Antoinette’s ladies in waiting, it was now time to fast-track to the
present and indulge in one of Auntie Nora’s favourite occupations, scavenging
for “marked down clearance” designer
handbags. It was only fair, of course,
as I had forsaken valuable shopping hours by hanging out with long dead royals,
quite possibly missing out on snagging the lone 75% reduced limited edition
Prada that would have cost me an entire year’s salary, consequently leaving me
destitute and homeless, all for the obsessive necessity of acquiring a long-for
coveted status symbol. The kid and I would then have no choice but to stay in
Paris, sell off the remainder of our belongings and set up camp in Les Jardins
du Luxembourg as we would not have an extra sou or two for the metro ride to
the airport. I’m certain that my niece
would agreeably consent to the revised change in itinerary and wittingly persuade
me to instead contemplate taking up residence in her beloved heroine’s spacious
700 room palace. Totally do-able, quite
practical as well as educational, with free history lessons detailing day to
day 18th century Court life thrown in as an added bonus! Not a bad idea and one seriously worth
considering, as this would prevent my sister from having to fork out thousands
of dollars for the kid’s tuition down the road….

Disappointed
that she didn’t have the opportunity to fully immerse herself in re-enacting the
customs and traditions as dictated by life at the royal Court, the kid sniveled
and complained, lethargically dragging her pink-sneakered feet along one of the
most garishly elegant and famous avenues in Paris. Stretching from Place de la
Concorde to Place Charles de Gaulle, culminating at the Arc de Triomphe, the spacious
tree-lined avenue of Les Champs Elysees spans 1.91 kilometres and is a pedestrian
friendly promenade showcasing a little bit of everything, from gaudy arcades
and fast food burger joints to the aloof, exclusive and aristocratic Louis
Vuitton and Mercedes-Benz. Bling bling
juxtaposed alongside budget friendly McDonalds made for a curious camaraderie,
a delicately balanced tightrope, catering to one dollar Euro budgets as well as
to American Express black card “the sky
is the limit” shop till you drop label conscious privileged shopaholic
brats. Shopping mecca for locals and tourists alike, this grand avenue is a
must-see “once in a lifetime”
spectacle, boasting showrooms gorged with Peugeots and gazillion dollar Aston
Martin type limited edition sports cars, supersonic vehicles of the James Bond
spy thriller kind.

So it was
with utter disbelief that the kid and I happened to stumble across such a
vehicle, casually languishing in front of the Haagen-Dazs ice cream gelaterie,
an ostentatious gilded sports car, bearing Saudi Arabian plates. Entranced and
mesmerized by such a rare specimen, my niece squealed in awe, delighted to
feast her eyes on a never before seen gold encrusted automobile.Relieved that the kid was finally emerging
from her self-imposed cocoon of not ever speaking again to “mean old Auntie Nora”, who had forcibly
dragged her pink-sneakered charge out of Marie-Antoinette’s palatial residence,
all the while desperately re-assuring the Versailles security team that the kid
won’t try and pull another stunt by setting up shop in the Chateau. I also had to remind her that “mean old Auntie Nora” was the incredibly
“swell” Auntie who had pleadingly
convinced Versailles security not to impose that lifetime ban by restricting
access to the palace and estate grounds, as that would be just a tad too harsh
of a punishment for an 18th century aristocratically obsessed 12
year old.

Now that we
were kind of back on speaking terms, both of us posed, gawked and drooled in
front of the radiant convertible, and envisioned ourselves fearlessly speeding along
the winding and treacherous seaside cliffs of the Amalfi Coast.Windswept locks cascading over eyes shielded
by Dior and Chanel sunglasses, the kid and I simultaneously plotted our new
adventures cavorting around Europe in a shimmering hot-rod.

Curious that
perhaps a wealthy and ruggedly handsome Arabian sheik was the fortunate owner
of the resplendent Lamborghini, my niece and I scrambled into Haagen-Dazs,
fantasizing that perhaps we might find him indulging in a crème-glacé. Perhaps we might even become chummy and would
become life-long bosom buddies, so taken with charming and eccentric Auntie
Nora and her scholarly and mischievously adorable niece, that he might even
consider loaning us a couple of gold coins and purchase magnificent Versailles
for the kid’s upcoming birthday. Or, if
not, then a spin in his spiffy shiny turbocharger would have to suffice…

Staring out
the window of Haagen-Dazs, savouring the “melt
in your mouth” gastronomic double cream parfaits, the kid and I were in
seventh heaven, daydreaming about the Arabian prince and the open road
adventures that loomed ahead.

Did we ever
meet the sheik and whiz in circles around the obelisk at Place de la
Concorde?You know how the saying goes:
What happens in Paris stays in Paris…

Note – I do have to confess that my café au lait and the
kid’s ice-cream banana split set us back a jaw-dropping 27 Euros, one of the
most expensive gelatos ever!!Yikes!!Would we have expected
any less, though, with gold Lamborghinis parked outside this delectable
gelaterie?